


The Other Side: a Between the Lines fic

by The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff



Series: Between the Lines [13]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Bone Apple Tea, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Fluff, M/M, Massage, Oh my god they were quarantined, btl quarantine, but like after the apocalypse, dancing in your friend’s guest room in the night, dev still doesn’t have a star wars kink, gonna try to make that a tag lol, i wrote this in a few hours lol rip, like it’s disgusting, literally i saw the prompt sleepless & all i could think was it’s niall he’s tired, mentions of getting married & shit, niall is tired, simon & baz are in this for like two lines idk why i tagged them, so here’s some btl deniall, while your fiancé sings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27792523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff/pseuds/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff
Summary: Niall is overworked & stressed. Dev knows how to cheer him up.or, the BTL crew in quarantine, take 3
Relationships: Dev/Niall (Simon Snow), Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Between the Lines [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1464463
Comments: 17
Kudos: 66
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	The Other Side: a Between the Lines fic

**Author's Note:**

> written for the carry on countdown day 5: sleepless
> 
> LITERALLY I procrastinated so hard on this. I wrote it frantically in the last three hours lol. Hope y’all enjoy regardless 💜
> 
> rated M for bad innuendos & also because i’m afraid to rate something T ever again

**NIALL**

It’s late when I get in. Late enough to have had dinner by myself in my office. Late enough for Baz to be asleep when I walk through the door.

Simon waves to me from the sofa, shrugs—just slightly enough that he won’t wake Baz—and turns back to whatever he’s watching on the television. 

I think again how completely irritating it is that a lockdown just _happened_ to happen while we were staying here. Between houses. _Almost_ in a house, for fuck’s sake. 

It’s alright. If we had to be stuck somewhere, this is probably for the best. But it isn’t _the_ best. 

I crave privacy. Especially after these long days—made extra long by everyone’s foul moods—at work. And the closest I get to it is a guest room in my best friend’s flat. 

Dev’s in bed already when I walk in, reading. He’s been reading every night before bed ever since this whole mess began, which isn’t odd in itself. It’s more the flavour of the reading lately that strikes me.

“What’s this one, then?” I ask as I close the door. 

He doesn’t look up at me. I almost envy the stupid book. " _Alas, Babylon,_ " he says. He puts on a bit of a dramatic lilt. 

I start emptying my pockets out onto the top of the chest of drawers. Wallet. Keys. Despair. "Is that another one about the apocalypse?" I ask as I start in on my watch. 

"Mhm." His eyes travel across the page for a moment before he dog-ears it and sets the book aside. "Going for _The Dog Stars_ next."

I raise my eyebrows at _Alas, Babylon_ where he's set it on his bedside table. "It's not Baz's, is it?"

He shakes his head. "Relational torment is one thing," he says. "I know better than to fuck around with Baz's books. I _like_ living."

"Even right now?" He's watching me as I undo the buttons on my cardigan. I'm so tired I almost don't have it in me to care. 

"Well." He cocks an eyebrow at me. "Just look at the view. What's not to like?"

"Right _now_?" I shrug out of the cardigan and toss it into the hamper. " _People_. They come in. They're angry. They take it out on us. And all they want to do is whinge about the bloody state of the world."

"How's that different from the norm, darling?"

I sigh. "Not much, I suppose."

He tilts his head. His hair’s getting long on the sides, and he’s even keeping a short beard now. The whole look is different, and, because he’s _Dev,_ he doesn’t even look ragged. “So,” he says, “should I not ask how your day was, then?”

“Tiresome,” I say, and I drop to sit on the edge of the bed with my back to him. It isn’t long before I hear the rustling of the duvet, before I feel the mattress dipping, before he’s behind me, his chin resting on my shoulder, his arms circling around my middle. 

And then his nimble fingers come up to work my tie open.

  
  


**DEV**

He’s a sight for sore eyes, this one. 

I’m stuck here day in and day out with my cousin and Simon. It’s not bad. Baz only threatens my life a few times a day. We make do, I think, overall. But it’d be nice if I got Niall more than evenings and weekends. 

They even took the evening from me today. And yesterday. I’m like to lose the plot soon if this keeps up.

“D,” Niall says now as I loosen his tie, “I’m _tired—_ ”

“I’m not trying to lure you into my pants,” I tell him. “Which is a real sentence I’ve just said. An actual utterance. Mark this day as the one where I officially lost sight of my priorities.” 

He leans back against me, scoffing. “Shut up.” 

“Nah.” I work my knuckles into his shoulders—glorious things they are—and he groans. It’s low, and gruff, and hot, but I’m a man of my word. “Up. Get your shirt off.” 

He tries to give me a look from over his shoulder. His fringe is so long, hanging in his eyes. “For?”

“A _non-sensual massage,_ obviously,” I tell him. “Probably won’t be very good, though. No massage oil.”

I take in the view as he gets up. As he pulls his shirttails from his trousers. As he undoes each button, one by one by one. “Is that something people keep on hand?” he asks.

I’m not sure which I like better, seeing him like _this,_ or seeing him in that cardigan and tie combo. 

I think I just have a Niall Sheridan kink. But who can blame me? 

I shrug at him. “I’ve no idea.” 

  
  


**NIALL**

He’s giving me that look. The one where he goes a bit feral in the eyes. Soft, too, because he can somehow manage both simultaneously.

I love that look. I love that it’s mine. 

I love that _he’s_ mine. That we got here, somehow. Even if we’re stuck in a fucking guest room. (I’m _grateful_ for the guest room. I am. But it isn’t _ours._ ) (That look, though…)

“I’d say we could use lube,” he says. He’s sat back on his heels, a pair of Star Wars boxer briefs stretched tight over his thighs. They’re siren-song red with a Darth Vader helmet print. Yesterday’s theme was baby Yoda. Some things never change. “Probably too _viscous_.” He winks at me.

He’s the only person who can make a wink look _good._

I shake my head a bit and smile as I throw my shirt in the laundry. And then I revel in watching _him_ watch _me_ crawl into bed. I like to rile him up. I _like_ knowing he’s watching me. That he likes what he sees...

He straddles my back once I’m settled, bare knees at my sides. And then his palms and fingers press deep into my shoulders, and I actually feel like I might melt. That maybe I _am_ melting. 

Fuck, it feels good. It feels _good_ , and the sheets smell like him—like _us—_ and I’m not anywhere near the fucking bank right now. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” I say against the mattress. “Christ alive.” 

“You’re tight, darling,” Dev says. “And I’d like you to note that I’m specifically _not_ making a sex joke right now. Merely innuendo.” 

I snort. “You’re a menace.”

“Can’t wait to join you in maniacal matrimony,” he says. I can practically hear him winking.

  
  


**DEV**

I think I’ve relieved some of the tension—his shoulders are hard as bloody rocks, practically—but I can do better. 

I can do _more._

I bend until my face is next to his. "I'm gonna regale you."

"D…" he giggles—Niall Sheridan _giggles_ —when my lips brush the shell of his ear.

"Serenade, then," I whisper as I dig my fingers into the mess of his shoulder. "I'll serenade your arse so hard you'll forget about all those tossers."

“You’re serenading me just fine as is,” he says.

“ _But._ ” I give the _t_ a nice bit of emphasis. “We’ve no music.”

He scoffs. His eyes are closed now as I look at his face. He looks bloody exhausted. (Also gorgeous, but he’s never anything less.) 

" _In the middle of the night, in my dreams,_ " I start, and he's laughing but it only spurs me on, really. " _You should see the things we do,_ darling—"

"I _don't_ think that's the word—"

“Didn’t know you were an expert on T Swift,” I say, and I revel in his little shiver as I stroke my fingers down his spine. 

That’s when I think of it. 

I lift myself off of him and pat him on the arse. His perfect arse that’s still cooped up in his trousers for some reason. “Come on,” I say. “Up. Let’s go.”

  
  


**NIALL**

I don’t know what he’s on about. I barely ever do.

And I’m too tired to tell him off for telling me what to do. 

“D…”

“Come _on_ ,” he prods as he pulls my shoes off. (Thoughtful, but unnecessary.)

I groan as I roll over. I also wish I was still having a massage. “ _What._ ” 

He’s stood there in nothing but Darth Vader print pants and an old t-shirt. It makes something go off inside my chest. Something subtle, now that we’re five years in like _this_ , but something _big,_ still. 

His hair is falling in his eyes. He blows it away. A bit of it gets stuck on the barbells in his eyebrow. "What about a first dance? Any ideas?"

"With the way things are going, we'll be lucky to have a wedding."

He rolls his ridiculous eyes at me. "We'll have a wedding. It's not like all those books, you know. Apocalypse won't last forever." He holds out his hands to me. I take them, and he pulls me to my feet. "Also I'm partial to that one song." He starts moving, first those wicked hips of his, and then our arms. I've no idea what sort of dance he's trying to accomplish. " _Tonight, take me to the other side—_ "

"Jason Derulo," I laugh. "You want a Jason Derulo song for our first dance." 

Dev shimmies his shoulders at me. " _And I know we ain't friends anymore, if we walk down this road, we'll be lovers for sure—_ " He's grinning, and his voice is wobbling from his movement, but it's still beautiful. Even in whispers. 

And then we’re just dancing. Dancing while Dev makes his way through the chorus of however many songs, switching at random, throwing me off.

Throwing me off, but always catching me. 

I think of how ridiculous we must look. Two half-dressed grown men dancing—probably very badly—to a bunch of half-sung mediocre pop songs. Quarantine hair. Dress socks. _Darth Vader._

“ _So tonight, kiss me like it’s do or die—_ ” Ah. Apparently we’ve circled back. 

I take the opportunity to shove him down onto the bed. 

He’s raising his eyebrows at me as I crawl over him. “Thought you were _tired,_ ” he says. The piercings in his eyebrow glimmer as he winks at me. _Again_. 

“Oh, we’re _going all the way,_ now,” I say.

“Brill,” he sighs. “ _Let your love crash into me,_ then, darling.”

I shake my head. “Shut up,” I tell him.

And then he pulls me down. 

  
  
  
  


[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185045378@N05/50684715931/in/dateposted-public/)

**Author's Note:**

> That was silly huh? Let me know how you liked it! I am soft for them.
> 
> If you enjoyed this & haven't read the main fic yet, [check it out here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18685069/chapters/44312203) It's my sweet sweet baby. 
> 
> ALSO! I made a fandom [Instagram!](https://www.instagram.com/thehoneyedhufflepuff/) Come visit me if you want! 
> 
> I'm also still on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thehoneyedhufflepuff) because I like to suffer


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